Living Outside the Stacks

I love my children. I. Love my children. I love. My children.

This has become my mantra, interspersed with a lot of heavy sighs and eye rolling.

I say “Do the dishes.” The result: only half the dishes are washed. Why? Because all of the dishes didn’t fit in the dishwasher. I say “Wash your clothes.” The result: the clothes get that rank musty smell from sitting in the washing machine for 3 days. Why? Because Miss 16 was supposed to put the clothes in the dryer but she had practice and competition. There are three other children at home who could have handled this!

Now let me explain something here – my kids only have a few chores: clean their rooms and the kitchen and do their laundry. I used to wash their clothes but then I swear they just started throwing stuff in the hamper so I’d have something to do.

I’ve talked to my children repeatedly about doing jobs halfway. Either do it right or don’t do it all. Seriously, I don’t take them to practice and not pick them up. Ok, I did forget them once or twice but obviously they made it home.

I’m just tired of things being done halfway. I’m tired of repeating myself. I’m tired of giving my all and only getting bits and pieces in return. And, please, do not tell me that’s part of motherhood. It’s not. Kids are capable of giving/doing so much more than what we expect from them.

Next time someone wants something, I think we’ll go to the store and not buy it.

I have the research skills of a librarian, the preservation skills of an archivist, the organizational skills of a mother and the domestic skills of a Stepford wife. I have the research skills of a librarian, the preservation skills of an archivist, the organizational skills of a mother and the domestic skills of a Stepford wife. Read more from this author